


Yabba

by slashscribe



Category: NCIS
Genre: Episode Tag, M/M, NCIS 9x19, The Good Son
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-01
Updated: 2012-04-01
Packaged: 2017-11-02 20:35:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashscribe/pseuds/slashscribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The lack of talking all day has made Tony a little confused, and he feels quite certain that something is hinky.  Naturally, he talks it out with Gibbs.  Episode tag to 9x19, The Good Son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yabba

Tony’s not surprised when someone buzzes his apartment.  Well, on some level he’s surprised that Gibbs bothers to buzz at all rather than barge in unannounced, but he supposes Gibbs like to be polite now and again, if only for the shock value.

 

He feels unusually nervous as he waits for Gibbs to make his way up the stairs to his apartment.  He finds himself glancing in the mirror, checking his hair and straightening his t-shirt, though he’s not quite sure why; no matter how many times he tugs on it, his hands are not an iron and will never remove the wrinkles, and neither are they a sewing kit to fix the fraying edges.  He knows Gibbs won’t care about these little imperfections, but he can’t help but fixate a bit nonetheless.

 

Perhaps it’s because he’s tired, and not just from working a long case.  He’s mostly tired from _thinking_ , but he hasn’t quite wrapped his brain around what it is his thoughts are trying to say, and so he’s left feeling nervous and a bit edgy, so much so that his body jolts in apprehension when Gibbs knocks on the door, even though he’d been anticipating the sharp rap of knuckles.

 

Taking a deep breath, he heads over and pulls the door open, giving a half-grin in spite of himself when he sees the six-pack of beer in Gibbs’ hands and the no-nonsense expression on his face.

 

“Still wearing that look outside of work, Boss?” Tony asks, watching Gibbs walk into his apartment with an air of self-assuredness. 

 

“That kinda case,” Gibbs explains without looking behind him.  Tony closes the door and allows a small smile to cross his face as Gibbs goes into the kitchen, a smile that he can’t quite help and that almost feels like a secret as he closes the chain.  He feels some of his nerves melt away at the small moment to himself and he follows Gibbs.

 

“Guess so,” Tony says, taking a beer from Gibbs and then clinking the long neck against that of Gibbs’ bottle.  He takes a sip, savoring the cold liquid, and then speaks.  “What’s the occasion?”

 

Gibbs shrugs and takes a seat on one of the barstools underneath Tony’s high kitchen counter, gesturing Tony towards the other.  Tony finds this odd, given that it’s his apartment and he should be the one directing the seating chart, but he sits nonetheless. 

 

“Tough one for Leon,” Gibbs says.

 

Tony nods and gives a sort of half-shrug as he doesn’t have much to say in response.  He’s had his own share of tough cases, after all, and he knows Gibbs has, too. 

 

They’re silent for a moment, drinking their beers in the transitory light of spring dusk, in which the beams of the setting sun coming in the window brighten the dark glass of their bottles and illuminate the planes of their faces.  In just a few moments they’ll need to turn a light on, but for a while at least, they rely on the orange-pink of the sun, and it feels soothing after such an emotionally intense case to know that some things, like dusk, will always come. 

 

Tony’s not sure what to say.  He feels as if something shifted during the case, something between Gibbs and himself that he can’t put his finger on, and he’s not sure how to work out the answers he wants.  He takes another sip of his beer, setting it down when he’s done and twisting it back and forth, watching the way the light shifts along the bottle.

 

“Something on your mind?” Gibbs asks.  His eyes flicker over Tony’s face, and Tony feels trapped for a moment, as if he’s a startled mouse who’s just realized the snack he’s about to eat is attached to a deadly trap, and he blinks and looks away. 

 

“Don’t know,” Tony says.  He doesn’t mean to sound sullen, but he does nonetheless, and he takes another long sip _(gulp)_ of beer, his eyes everywhere but Gibbs.

 

“You know,” Gibbs says conversationally, his voice weathered but strong, “There’s a reason you’re not supposed to read your performance review.”

 

The corner of Tony’s lip twitches upward and he glances at Gibbs.  Trapped.  He laughs a bit.  “I’m very inquisitive,” Tony says.  “Curious, even.  I’ve been told it’s a trait of a good agent.”

 

“Yeah,” Gibbs agrees, “but it killed the cat.”

 

Tony snorts.  “Good thing I’m not a cat,” he points out. 

 

Gibbs gives a half-smile in the half-light of dusk and takes another sip of his beer.  “Meant what I said,” he says.  “I rely on your yabba-yabba.”

 

“Good to hear, Boss, because while we were investigating the case today, I did my own little side-investigation.  A b-side to the case, if you will.  Play within a play, maybe, like Itchy and Scratchy on the Simpsons -  ”

 

“Tony,” Gibbs says.  It’s more of a lament, really, than a simple statement, and it makes Tony’s smile widen because he knows there’s only so much ‘yabba-yabba’ that Gibbs can take.

 

“Okay, I’ll cut to the chase,” Tony says.  “I did some investigating.  The results are inconclusive so far, but it seems like most people are unwilling to admit that they like my gift of gab.”

 

“That so?” Gibbs asks.  He doesn’t sound surprised.

 

“Sure is,” Tony says.  “But I know they love it.  They just won’t admit it.”

 

“Love’s a strong word,” Gibbs cautions.

 

Tony grins, twisting his beer bottle again.  It looks orange where the light of the sun touches it, and he watches the fleeting color for a moment, enjoying the way it curves along the side of the glass.

 

“So what’s _really_ on your mind?” Gibbs asks.

 

Just like that, Tony’s no longer interested in the orange light painting his bottle and he turns to look at Gibbs.  He feels trapped again, and he knows that this is Gibbs’ intention.

 

“I don’t know,” Tony says.  He’s not avoiding the question; he’s being quite honest.  He _doesn’t_ know what’s on his mind, but it’s _something_.

 

“So yabba then,” Gibbs says.

 

Tony rolls his eyes but the corner of his lip is twitching upwards.  He decides he’ll humor Gibbs and he plays along.

 

“Something today was kinda hinky,” Tony says.  “I don’t know what it is.  See, it’s not the slime-ball pizza guy, or the slime-ball brother-in-law thing, because everybody’s got one of those, right?” Tony glances at Gibbs and is glad to see that Gibbs has quirked a grin and clearly finds this funny, so he feels his steam building up and he continues.

 

“Anyway, it felt really weird to be so quiet all the time, and I think maybe it made my brain stop working.  I’m serious, Gibbs – it was weird.  But something _else_ was hinky.  And I don’t think it was me.”

 

“What was it, then?” Gibbs asks.  His patience makes Tony _im_ patient, and Tony can’t help it; he starts tapping his index finger on the counter, listening to the dull sound it makes for a moment before continuing.

 

“I don’t know.  Thought maybe it was Vance, but I’m not so sure.  I think it’s _you_ , Gibbs.”

 

“You think I’m hinky?” Gibbs asks.  He sounds amused, and Tony’s not sure he likes that.

 

“Not _you_ , but something _about_ you,” Tony says.  The bright orange of the sun on his beer bottle is now a rusty caramel, and he frowns, taking a long sip and then turning to Gibbs.

 

“What about me is hinky?” Gibbs asks.  He looks to be enjoying this, if the lack of a scowl on his face is anything to go by.

 

“Maybe not _hinky_.  I just realized that something about you has been changing for a while now and it’s like you’re somebody else.  I mean, not like a Jekyll and Hyde kind of thing, nothing like _that_ …I think it’s kind of a good thing.”

 

“That so?” Gibbs asks.  This time, he sounds a little more surprised than the last time he said that, and maybe even approving.  Tony takes this as a cue to go on.

 

“Yeah, see?  If this had been last year at this time, you would’ve shut me up by now because this is too personal,” Tony says.

 

“DiNozzo,” Gibbs says, this time with bite, and Tony grins.

 

“Guess maybe you haven’t changed _that_ much,” Tony concedes.  “Anyway, I heard what you said to Vance.  I have really good hearing, you know.”

 

“Oh yeah?”  Gibbs asks.  “What’d you hear?”

 

“What you said – when you told him he didn’t fail Matt, but that it was time to let go.”  Tony doesn’t say anything more, and he doesn’t look at Gibbs.  Gibbs doesn’t say anything, either, which is not really a surprise, and there’s _so much_ Tony wants to say, but he’s afraid he’ll cross a line. 

 

Finally, Gibbs takes a sip of beer and sets it down with a bit of a thud, just enough to make extra noise but not enough for the head to spill out the top of the bottle.  “It’s the truth,” Gibbs says. 

 

Tony swallows.  “I just – it just seems like maybe _you’ve_ let go a little bit,” he says. 

 

“I guess I have,” Gibbs says.  He turns to Tony with a small smile, then turns back to his beer.  “Guess I have,” he repeats.  He pauses for a moment, the light of the sun sinking into the lines and wrinkles of his face and making them look like they’re glowing against the dark shadows where the light can’t reach.  “You have, too,” he points out.  “Let go of Wendy.”

 

Tony shrugs.  “Yeah,” he says.  “Guess I have.”

 

Gibbs picks up his beer and holds it towards Tony, and they clink bottles again, though this time, they both have only a small amount left, enough to drain in only a few more sips.

 

“It’s about time, huh?” Tony asks after a moment.

 

Gibbs shrugs.  “I don’t know,” he says.  “I guess.  Everybody goes their own speed.”

 

Tony narrows his eyes.  “Have you been talking to Ducky?  What’s with all the wisdom?”

 

Gibbs snorts.  Tony waits for him to speak, but it’s not a surprise when a reply doesn’t come.  He takes his last sip of beer and pushes his empty bottle away from him, turning back to Gibbs.  “So you really meant it?”

 

“Meant _what?_ ” Gibbs asks.

 

“That you depend on my yabba yabba,” Tony clarifies.

 

“Back to this again?” Gibbs asks.  “You know I don’t say things I don’t mean.  But don’t make me regret saying it.”

 

Tony grins.  “I just wanted to be sure.  But, you know, in a way, that means that you rely on _me_.”

 

Gibbs shrugs.  “I do,” he says easily.

 

  1. “Wait, you do?”



 

“Yup,” Gibbs says.  He takes a sip of his beer, the last, and sets the bottle down.  He gestures towards the empties and Tony shrugs, so Gibbs stands up and goes to the fridge, grabbing a couple more.  He flicks the kitchen light on when he passes the switch, and the light feels overwhelming to Tony as he tries to process what Gibbs just said. 

 

He takes a long sip of the cold beer and then sets it down.  “You just admitted that you rely on me,” Tony says again.

 

“Yup,” Gibbs repeats. 

 

“Can you maybe turn off the functional mute for a second and turn on the yabba, because I could use a few more words than ‘yup.’  See, it sounds like you actually just admitted that you _rely_ \- ”

 

Tony’s not shocked when the headslap comes, but a surprised ‘meep’ sort of sound escapes him nonetheless.  “Guess I should just let it go,” Tony says.

 

“Guess so,” Gibbs says.

 

“You know, I rely on you, too,” Tony says.  “A lot.” 

 

This conversation is starting to go past ‘yabba’ and into serious conversation territory, so he takes another long pull.  He’s not trying to get drunk, but it’d be nice to take the edge off a little bit. 

 

“I always have, you know.  And not just at work,” Tony adds.

 

“Yeah,” Gibbs says.  “I know.  Me too.  Not just at work.”

 

Something seems to flicker to life inside Tony’s brain and all the confusion of the day is starting to lock into place inside his head.  He knows that Gibbs has begun to truly let go – of Shannon, perhaps, and his past – and he knows that Gibbs _relies_ on him, and actually _likes_ his ‘yabba yabba,’ and Tony remembers all the times he’s gone to Gibbs in desperation, in despair, in a drunken haze – and he remembers how every time something is going wrong in his life, it’s _Gibbs_ he depends on to set things right, and he remembers how he felt when Gibbs told him he relies on his yabba yabba at work that day, the way he’d felt the insides of his heart twist and a smile he couldn’t help curl onto his lips, and suddenly it’s all becoming very clear to him.

 

He glances at Gibbs, who is watching him in something akin to amusement or endearment, he can’t tell which.

 

“Gibbs,” Tony says.  He’s not sure what to say next, and he’s not sure if he’s a complete idiot for even saying this, and for a moment he thinks maybe he should just go curl up in a corner and forget this ever happened, but now that these thoughts have made themselves known, he can’t ignore them, not when it’s so clear to him that they’ve been there for _ages_ and he’d been too blind to see them.  “Gibbs,” he restarts.  “I think I might be a little bit crazy.”

 

“I _know_ you’re a little bit crazy,” Gibbs says.  “Known for a while.”

 

Tony rolls his eyes.  “I think I _really_ rely on you,” Tony says.  “More than I ever relied on anyone else – even Wendy.”

 

This catches Gibbs’ attention and he zeroes in on Tony, eyes narrowing in concentration.  It’s a bit nerve-wracking, but Tony keeps going because there’s a strange momentum in this situation that he hasn’t felt since the limitless bounds of his feelings when he was much younger, and he thinks maybe he _has_ let go a bit, and maybe Wendy’s rejection has finally stopped holding him back because it’s as if he _has_ to say this to Gibbs.

 

“I think maybe – maybe it’s more than relying or depending on you.  Maybe it’s just - ”

 

Tony stops because Gibbs reaches out, putting a hand on top of his.  Tony swallows, his throat suddenly dry.  For a moment, he wishes Gibbs hadn’t turned the light on because he thinks their hands would look nice in the dusky shadows, but instead, they’re bright and in focus, and it’s so strange to see Gibbs’ hand covering his own like that that he’s not sure what to make of it.

 

“I know,” Gibbs says suddenly.  “Me too.”  Even in the bright lights of the kitchen, his voice sounds like the dusk Tony had craved just a moment before.  It’s dark and intense, and when Tony looks up at Gibbs’ face, the lines and wrinkles seem somehow diminished in the light of the kitchen.

 

Tony turns his hand palm up without his eyes ever leaving Gibbs’ face and laces their fingers together.  Gibbs’ eyes soften a bit at that, and Tony feels a smile grow on his face, like the secret smile he’d allowed himself when Gibbs entered his apartment, only this time, the secret is shared, and that makes it even better.  He’s not surprised when Gibbs leans forward to kiss him, and he leans in to make it easier for him.

 

There are no fireworks when their lips meet, no explosions or worlds turning upside down, only the brush of wet lips against wet lips, the nudge of noses, the tightening of strong fingers laced together for the first time of many, and somehow, this makes it even better.  This kiss is not hidden in the dusk of twilight or engendered by an overly-romantic setting – it is reality, and it makes Tony’s heart pound and when he pulls away from Gibbs, their faces inches apart, he smiles again, the same secretive smile as before, but this time it’s a shared truth mirrored on the gentle curve of Gibbs’ lips.

 

“I could rely on this,” Tony says.  He keeps his voice soft so as not to break the spell that seems to have settled over them, and Gibbs grins. 

 

“Already do,” he says.

 

“Yeah?” Tony asks.  “That’s a lot of relying on me.  You know, it could easily go to my head – this is a lot in one - ”

 

“Yabba,” Gibbs warns.

 

“Shutting up,” Tony says dutifully, and since he’s not allowed to talk, he makes up for it by pressing his lips against Gibbs’, kissing him again, this time with a little more energy and confidence.  Gibbs shifts closer on his stool until they’re pressed together, and Tony thinks Gibbs is right – he already relies on this, too, because it’s like it’s been there all along and they’ve only now discovered it.

 

And when he pulls away, he feels something bubbling up inside of him, something he can’t contain, and he’s just about to open his mouth and, well, _yabba_ , because there’s no way he _can’t_ after something like that, but Gibbs reaches up and presses a finger against his lips. 

 

“Yabba,” Gibbs says with a shake of his head.

 

“Thought you relied on my yabba,” Tony says, words smooshed against Gibbs’ finger.  He knows he sounds sulky.

 

The corner of Gibbs’ mouth crooks upward, and his eyes flicker between Tony’s eyes and his lips.  “Can think of a better way to use your mouth,” he says.

 

Tony grins at this.  “No yabba,” he agrees, and when Gibbs’ lips are on his again, talking is the farthest thing from his mind. 

 

“Hey,” Tony says when Gibbs pulls away and he’s had a moment to regain his composure.  “Did you plan this?  I bet you made sure I could get that report just so -”

 

“DiNozzo!” Gibbs says.  His exasperation is evident.  “ _Yabba!_ ”

 

Tony smiles.  Some things never change.

 

 


End file.
